#sakuatsuweek2024

[flyingwargle]

sakuatsu week day 5: college

sakusa is browsing the available courses for next semester when, on a whim, he clicks on the language courses, and notices a particular offering: jsl for beginners.

students will receive a cursory introduction to jsl, says the course description. they will learn the basic alphabet and how to sign simple phrases and sentences. this course meets three times a week. there is only an oral final examination, not a written exam.

his own understanding of jsl is limited to several youtube videos and whatever that his partner taught him. he remembers bits of the alphabet, signs for love you and see you later, but that’s about it. atsumu seldom signs, anyway, since he has hearing aids, but…

there was one time when they went for lunch with osamu. sakusa excused himself to use the washroom, and when he came back, he noticed the twins signing to each other, rapid hand movements that he could barely keep up with. he would never forget atsumu’s expressive face, the way he silently laughed, his eyes crinkled and lips upturned. although he became verbal the instant that sakusa sat back down, the feeling of being left out never left him, fuels him to learn jsl when he can.

and if he can take an entire class for it, why not? he adds it to his schedule.

he doesn’t tell atsumu, wants it to be a surprise. still, when they meet in osaka between semesters, he asks him for another lesson. “i didn’t know ya were interested,” atsumu drawls. sakusa sits between his legs, head rested on his chest.

“i want to be able to communicate with you.”

“aren’t we doin’ that right now?”

“i want to do it in a language that you’re comfortable with,” he amends, tilting his chin upwards to look at him. “i know you get overwhelmed sometimes, but you keep your hearing aids in, for my sake. i don’t want you to sacrifice your comfort for me. plus, jsl is just another way to connect, just like writing or talking.”

atsumu returns his gaze with such softness that sakusa fears his partner might cry. “aw, omi. i think yer the only person i know that’s willin’ ta learn.”

“not even your brother?”

“ma forced us. i become non-verbal without my hearin’ aids, an’ ma wanted a way fer all o’ us ta communicate when that happened.” atsumu kisses his forehead. “d’ya still remember the alphabet? i’ll teach ya how ta sign yer name.”

when the next semester starts, sakusa sits among his peers, watching and listening their instructor sign her introduction. “my name is taniyama kaede.” her gestures are fluid, similar to atsumu’s. “i’m a certified bilingual translator for english, japanese, asl, and jsl. let’s have everyone else introduce themselves and share their reason for learning jsl.”

sakusa waits for his turn. “my name is sakusa kiyoomi. i’m a sports medicine major. i want to learn jsl because my partner is hard of hearing and i want to be able to communicate with him.” it’s a similar reason to many of his peers, with a few simply interested in learning for the sake of knowing another language.

they start with the alphabet, which sakusa has reinforced while with atsumu. after that comes fingerspelling, stringing the individual letters together. it’s easy for him to do, but difficult to interpret, especially if it’s fast. he’s tempted to ask atsumu for help but refrains, wanting to savor the look on his partner’s face when they meet and he can sign a conversation with him. instead, he returns to youtube, watches countless clips of interpreters using fingerspelling to practice differentiating between the signs.

after fingerspelling comes fundamental signs that would help them create sentences. sakusa finds himself in a study group with his classmates so they could practice, and with each passing week, he finds himself in awe of atsumu, who learned such a complex language along with japanese. “i didn't get hearin' aids ‘till elementary school,” he told him once. “i had ta learn jsl and how ta speak at the same time. it wasn’t easy, lemme tell ya. if i didn’t have ‘samu, i woulda broke down cryin’ every day.”

sakusa practices with his study group, in front of the mirror after showering, while watching tutorial videos before bed. a semester is barely enough for him to grasp the basics, but when he sits in front of his instructor for his final exam, she tells him that he did well. “we only have an introductory level here,” she says, “but if you’d like to learn more, i teach classes at the language center not far from here.”

"i'd like that." he bows his head. “thank you for the semester. i learned a lot.”

as soon as his last exam is finished, he boards the shinkansen to osaka. atsumu waits for him on the platform, as always, greeting him with open arms. “missed ya, love,” he murmurs in his ear.

“i missed you, too.” sakusa hugs him tightly.

he can tell that atsumu is overwhelmed, from the clammy hand that envelops his, the way he winces at every noise that crosses their path. he starts mumbling and sakusa has to lean closer to hear, or ask him to repeat himself, to which atsumu would apologize and say it again. by the time they reach his apartment, his partner’s face is shiny with sweat, biting his bottom lip in pain.

“atsumu.” sakusa steps closer in front of him. “you can take your hearing aids off.”

“but i wanna hear yer voice,” he tries to argue, but sakusa shakes his head.

“i’m here all week. if you aren’t feeling well, you shouldn’t push yourself. besides…” he raises his hands, speaking as he signs, “i’m here for you.”

atsumu stares, flabbergasted. he instinctively raises his own hands, hesitates for a moment, and then signs and asks, “when did ya learn that?”

“i took a class to learn jsl. i intend to continue learning.” sakusa feels heat rush to his cheeks as he adds, “i love you, and i want us to communicate, no matter the language. i’m not very good yet, but i’ll learn and improve.”

tears form at the corners of his partner’s eyes. sakusa panics, closing the gap between them. “i’m sorry, i should’ve gotten you some medicine first. here, let’s–“

“nah, it’s not from that. i…wasn’t lyin’ when i said yer the first person that wanted ta learn.” atsumu sniffles, tears rolling down his cheeks. “ya’d really learn a whole ‘nother language, just fer me?”

“of course. what kind of partner am i, if i don’t?”

atsumu gives a tiny shake of his head, leans in close. “i don’t deserve ya, omi. i really don’t.”

sakusa lowers his head over his, stroking his hair. “you deserve the best. atsumu.”

he orders takeout while atsumu takes his hearing aids off, joining him on the couch. even though they’re silent, his partner is expressive as ever, from his grimace when sakusa tells him about his exams, eager nods when he describes the practice match against chuo, quiet chuckles when he critiques motoya’s newest hobby of mixing drinks. their dinner arrives, and they watch a movie with subtitles, cuddling for the rest of the night.

as they fall under the covers to sleep, atsumu taps on sakusa’s shoulder. “thank you,” he signs slowly for him to follow. “i love you, omi.”

“i love you, too.” sakusa doesn’t even need to think, the signs already engrained in his muscle memory. no matter the language or the circumstance, he’ll do what he need to, in order to tell his partner just how much he loves him.

[flyingwargle]

sakuatsu week day 1: "i've waited for this."

it’s a simple setup, rows of chairs on either side of a white carpet decorated with flowers that ends at the altar, an arch with curtains on either side, adorned with a beautiful assortment of fauna. the ocean and sky meet in an infinite expanse of blue, the sun giving its blessing onto the couple of the hour. the guests chatter amongst themselves, dressed anywhere from elegant suits, traditional kimono, radiant dresses. the minister awaits on the altar, waiting.

with uniformed footsteps, the couple arrives to walk down the aisle, arm in arm. the crowd jumps to their feet to applaud, whistle, and cheer, throwing flower petals in the air. a few have their phones out to record the moment, taking photos as the couple walks by, clad in matching pink suits and red bowties, smiles wide at the family and friends gathered together.

at the end of the aisle, before the minister, stands their best men. osamu’s smile shines brighter than the stars in the galaxy, motoya subtly wiping away tears with his hand. the couple reaches the altar, turns to face each other before the minister. atsumu’s upper lip wobbles as he tries to hold back his tears; kiyoomi can’t help but look at him fondly, with an adoration that has cultivated for years upon years, and will continue to grow, for as long as he lives.

once the crowd is seated, the minister starts. “it is my pleasure to officiate one of japan’s first same-sex marriages on this lovely day,” he begins. “may the couple find nothing but happiness for the rest of their lives, and may nothing threaten its validity, for as long as i have breath in this body.” he turns to atsumu. “miya atsumu, do you promise to take sakusa kiyoomi as your husband, to be there for him in sickness and health, and stand by his side, no matter what obstacles may come?”

“i do.” despite the tears in his eyes, his voice doesn’t waver.

the minister turns to kiyoomi. “sakusa kiyoomi, do you promise to take miya atsumu as your husband, to be there for him in sickness and health, and stand by his side, no matter what obstacles may come?”

“i do.” it’s a vow that he has made over and over, a vow that is legally recognized at last.

“please exchange rings to show your vows to one another.”

he steps back, and both partners reach into their pockets, where they stowed their wedding band for each other, a slim silver band with the outline of a weasel engraved on the outside, and the outline of a fox on the inside. kiyoomi slides his band over atsumu’s ring finger; atsumu does the same.

“i now declare you husband and husband. you may now kiss.”

kiyoomi cups atsumu’s cheeks, overwhelmed by the rush of emotion that surges through him. atsumu rests a hand on his chest, leaning forward to capture his lips. the crowd roars, throwing the remaining flower petals in the air.

when they break apart, their fingers intwine together to face their audience, witnesses to their union. “congratulations!” hinata shouts. bokuto is bawling beside him, the rest of their teammates whistling.

on the other side, aran has also been reduced to tears, kita gazing fondly at his underclassman. ginjima and kosaku shout at atsumu, suna unwavering as he films the entire ceremony. the husbands step away briefly to hug their respective best man – osamu wraps his brother in the tightest hug possible, and kiyoomi steps into his cousin’s arms. “congrats, kiyo.” motoya is on the brink of tears. “it was so beautiful.”

“thank you for being here, motoya.”

his cousin starts sniffling. “anything for my favorite little cousin!”

kiyoomi rolls his eyes, then turns toward osamu, who is approaching him for a hug. motoya happily embraces atsumu; kiyoomi gets a harsh slap on the back instead. “ya promised ta take care o’ ‘im.” just like his cousin, osamu’s voice is also thick. “i expect ya ta hold onto yer word.”

he thinks of the arguments over the years, the disagreements, the tears and slammed doors. every time it happened, he would always find atsumu at onigiri miya, crying or complaining to his brother. he witnessed their every up and every down, will continue to do so. now, however, kiyoomi has made a promise to only go up from here.

“of course,” he answers. “you can expect nothing less.”

osamu releases him, and kiyoomi finds atsumu’s hand again, whose tears have begun to flow freely. he turns to wipe a teardrop away, and atsumu smiles, overwhelmed by a sob. “i’m not sad, don’t worry. i’m just- i’m so happy, omi. ya have no idea.”

“i do.” even if he remains stoic, his chest feels like it’s about to burst with love, mind filled with endless mornings and nights with his husband, official papers and documents that recognize their marriage, maybe even a future with kids. anything is possible now, and he scarcely know how to start.

instead, he begins with a kiss on his forehead, lacing their fingers together again. atsumu turns, and kiyoomi lowers his head to kiss him again through the roaring applause. before they leave the altar, he pauses to take one last look over his shoulder, husband by his side.

they’ve waited for this, and it’s finally theirs. they turn, ready to celebrate with their loved ones, for tomorrow, they’ll face life as each other’s husbands, united forever.

--

inspiration: fanart of sakuatsu's wedding!! <3

[flyingwargle]

sakuatsu week day 7: mid-timeskip

after moving out on his own and settling into a routine, atsumu decides to make a completely responsible decision of purchasing a tablet, along with an attachable keyboard and stylus, because why the hell not?

“why not a laptop?” omi asks during their call. atsumu has propped his phone against his water bottle while he fiddles with his tablet’s settings.

“it’s lighter, an’ doesn’t take much space.” after setting up his account, he opens the app store, greeted with endless possibilities.

"what do you plan to use it for?"

“doin’ stuff online, i guess. beats doin’ taxes on a phone.” for fun, he looks through the fitness and wellness section, finding trackers, guided mindfulness apps, and... "ooh, this looks cool."

"what?"

“this journal app.” he holds it to the camera for his partner. “ya can share it with other people. ya got a tablet too, right? we can use this ta write ta each other!”

omi frowns. "can’t we text like usual?

"this is different! look, there's all these stickers, an' ya can upload pics an' videos. it'll be like a digital scrapbook. have ya ever made one?"

"no."

atsumu grins. "ma has one from when we were younger. s’fun ta look through sometimes.”

"this is coming from someone whose high school motto was that you don't need memories."

instead of a retort, atsumu falls quiet. "we won't be able ta have a lot o' that while yer in school an' i'm here. at least with this, we can still be connected in some way." they agreed to give long distance a shot, knowing that it won't be easy. although in the grand scheme of things, four years is inconsequential, but anything can happen in that time, both good and bad.

omi softens his expression. "you have a point. what's the name of the app? i'll look it up."

they set up a shared journal together. atsumu writes the title of the cover with his stylus. 'tsumu and omi's journal!

the next day, he writes his first entry. i accidentally sprayed my deodorant in barnes' face and thought i poisoned him. bokkun wouldn't stop laughing but i was seriously afraid that i lost brownie points with barnes. he was super chill, though! he adds a picture of the jackals' changing room that he took when he first started, along with a selfie of him and barnes from a bar night earlier in the month.

before going to bed, he checks the journal, heart jumping at omi's entry, also handwritten like his. typical day. i had practice in the morning, then three lectures and a lab. ate cafeteria food for dinner. i need to buy more protein powder. lab report due tomorrow.

omi added a few stickers but no pictures. atsumu checks his entry again, eyes widening at the scrawl beneath his last sentence. the locker room looks nice. is that bokuto from fukurodani? you should be more careful.

atsumu writes a reply, then comments on omi's entry. make sure you get lots of rest!! i'll link you some powder that my teammates recommended. it's pretty good!

the journal becomes part of their routine. some nights, they spend their video calls writing their entries and commenting on what the other wrote. not every entry is lighthearted, though. atsumu, after injuring his back, writes about the reckless play he tried, and how he's out of practice for a few days. omi calls him that night. "how are you feeling?"

"not good," he admits quietly. "bokkun's gonna help me 'round the house 'till i don't hurt as much."

"i'll send you a care package with some cream to help. i hope you'll feel better soon." when he's no longer hurting, he sends his own version of a care package in return.

atsumu knows the end of the semester is approaching because of omi's either very brief entries or very long rants about his professors, classmates, or teammates. one particular entry, though, makes him frown in concern, and he dials his number.

no answer. he tries again. declined. atsumu checks the app, sees that omi is also online. he writes, you okay?

nothing. then, the strokes come, one at a time. no.

this time, he gets a call. “omi?”

a pause. “sorry.” omi sniffles, his voice weak. “i wasn’t…i wasn’t in the right condition to pick up earlier.”

“s’okay. talk to me? what happened?”

he hears him suck in another breath, shuddering and low. “everything is so hard. i don’t have time to do anything, my classmates are the laziest fucks in the world, and all my teammates do is party and get laid. i can’t practice with the regulars because i need to prove my worth, whatever the fuck that means, even though i was recruited. did i tell you that my mom tried arguing with my professor the other day because i got a b on my quiz? it’s because i didn’t study, i had to do everything in my group project for physics, and-“

a sob. atsumu feels his chest tighten. “i miss you,” omi cries. “fuck school, i just want to play volleyball with you.”

“oh, omi.” going to university wasn’t omi’s choice, but his parents’, even though he received just as many offers from pros after high school. “i’m sorry, wait fer me, okay? i’ll be there tomorrow. i’ll be on the first shinkansen after practice. i’ll stay with ya all weekend. i’ll help ya get through this, i promise.”

atsumu is allowed to leave practice early, and he takes the shinkansen to tokyo. he waits for omi outside of his biology lecture hall to surprise him, wrapping him in a tight hug as soon as they make eye contact. “you really came,” omi whispers through his tears.

“obviously. if ya need me, i’ll come.”

they spend the night huddled on omi’s bed in his dorm room, exploring the journal’s features to create a pseudo-planner and calendar, one that they share. “do ya feel better?” atsumu asks, after they planned out the last few weeks of his semester.

omi nods, head resting on his shoulder. “a bit. i don’t know if i’ll follow this, though.”

“i know what ya’ll follow, fer sure.” atsumu swipes to the next month, where he’s penciled in omi’s arrival in osaka, and the circled days where they’ll have together. “you’ll be fine, omi. yer gonna graduate at the top o’ yer class, an’ be the best athlete in the collegiate league. yer gonna get so many offers afterwards, an’ we’re gonna either play together or against each other. we’ll get through it.”

“i know, and i love you for it.”

atsumu kisses the top of his head. “same with ya, babe. love ya with all my heart.”

[flyingwargle]

sakuatsu week day 6: paranormal / supernatural

atsumu is sitting on the engawa, staring at the clouds, when a harsh foot hits his side and shoves him to the ground. "ow!" he glares at his assailant. "what the hell, 'samu?"

"yer gonna make inari-sama cry with yer language." his brother is holding a broom, gray-tipped tail flickering in annoyance. "get outta the way, i'm tryna clean."

grumbling, he adjusts his kimono and moves aside for osamu to continue sweeping. their days are idyllic like this, endlessly peaceful with the occasional spat caused by the youkai living in the area. recently, a pair of youkai have moved in from the next town over, after their home was destroyed, and their days have become increasingly more entertaining, especially with a certain dark-haired, brooding kama itachi around.

"ya got that look on yer face. what dumb shit are ya thinkin' 'bout?"

"watch it. inari-sama can't cry 'bout both o' us." atsumu looks to the sky. "i was wonderin' if i should do somethin' fer omi."

osamu stops his sweeping. "why?"

"just ta make 'im feel welcomed! motoya comes by more often than he does, so i thought it's 'cause he don't like us, or he's scared o' us." as inarizaki's guardians, their shrine is open to all youkai, either as a sanctuary or to hang around. suna does that often enough.

"yet not romantic at all. i bet ya'd give 'im a knife or somethin'."

"he got his own weapons.” atsumu’s ear twitches. “although...we do got some cool knives…"

"i was kiddin'. don't give 'im a knife."

atsumu frowns at him. "then what should i do?"

his twin hums contemplatively, broom grazing the wooden floorboards. "tooru said those spring lilies are in season. ya could bring 'im there. it's on a cliff, so it looks pretty."

"an' how did ya learn 'bout that, dear brother? did someone take ya?" atsumu wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "someone like sunarin?"

"shaddup, or i'm gonna whack ya." osamu brandishes his broom, and atsumu jumps away with a laugh, turning his back.

"i'm gonna find omi!"

his brother shouts after him, but he can't hear him as he transforms in a puff of smoke, shifting into his fox form. with light feet, he bounds across the shrine grounds, down the stone steps, and through the forest.

many youkai live in the surrounding area under their watch, or the western forest under suna's, or the southern forest under daishou's. the itachi settled wherever that kiyoomi deemed clean, which happened to be the trees around the shrine.

he pads through the undergrowth until he finds their home, a sturdy oak tree. atsumu climbs the trunk and eventually finds kiyoomi in his humanoid form, a beautiful young man with dark curls, two moles over his eye, wearing a yellow and green kimono. he looks up from his book, eyes widening. "atsumu-sama." reverence makes his words rushed. "why are you-"

atsumu flicks his ear, then transforms into his own humanoid form. "c'mon, omi, i told ya ta drop the honorific. whatcha readin'?"

"i don't wish for inari-sama to smite me for disrespecting her guardians." he shows him his book. "it's a travelogue from a youkai in the karasuno crow pack. i yearn to travel as widely as they have."

"don't itachi travel 'round?"

“a bit. we’re often in threes, so it isn’t safe for us right now. motoya has been looking for a third to join us before we can travel.”

"oh." atsumu's voice drops. "does that mean ya'll leave afterwards?"

kiyoomi hesitates. “we may , but the forest is our home. we haven’t been here for long, but the hospitality we’ve received is…touching.”

"that's good. 'samu an' i do our best." atsumu smiles at him. "there's someplace that i wanna take ya, if yer free. how ‘bout it?”

“where?”

“the other side o’ the mountain! close ta tooru an’ his gang, if ya met ‘em before.”

“that’s rather far.”

atsumu grins. “not fer me!” he leaps from the branch and into the air, enveloped in another puff of smoke as he transforms into his true kitsune form, an elegant, white-furred creature with golden eyes, five tails tipped with gold. he hovers beside the tree, head lowered for kiyoomi. “climb on. i’ll get us there.”

he receives a bewildered look in exchange. “are you…is this all right? for me to…”

“i’m offerin’, aren’t i? ‘course it’s all right!” amusement rumbles deep in his voice. “behold the true power o’ atsumu-sama!”

after another moment’s hesitation, kiyoomi pockets his book and carefully jumps on, hands splayed gently across his scruff. atsumu takes off, trees rustling behind them.

he soars through the sky, reaches the next mountain in a matter of minutes. his eyes scan the mountainside for the spring lilies, spotting a patch of white. he starts his descent. “get ready ta jump!”

“hah?”

atsumu transforms again, and his humanoid form freefalls through the air before landing in the clearing. kiyoomi yelps after him, landing in his arms with a grunt. atsumu throws his head back with a laugh, a chortle that echoes around them. “ain’t it pretty?” he asks, jerking his chin toward the flowers.

the spring lilies create a blanket of white through the grass, waltzing with the wind. coupled with the fresh air and pure silence, it’s like they’ve been transported into their own world.

“atsumu-sama.” kiyoomi’s voice is hesitant. “you can put me down.”

oh. “oh!” atsumu quickly lowers him to the ground. kiyoomi straightens his kimono and takes in the view. “tooru loves flowers, so ya can find these patches ‘round his territory. we get together fer drinkin’ parties a lot in the spring, like how humans have hanami. hey, let’s come back with drinks – we can bring motoya an’ samu, an’ maybe sunarin would wanna come–“

“or,” kiyoomi cuts in gently, “we can enjoy the view for ourselves.” he moves forward, leaving him behind.

“yes. yes, we definitely can,” atsumu mumbles to himself, hurrying after him.

they find a rock to climb to the top and admire the sea of white. atsumu watches kiyoomi, admires the way his eyes widen at the flowers, the tiny smile that softens his expression. he could watch him forever, he realizes.

“if ya ever travel ‘round,” he ventures slowly, “i hope ya won’t forget all the sights that inarizaki has.”

“of course not. i won’t forget them in a hurry.” kiyoomi turns to him, unspoken words hanging between them. “thank you, atsumu-sama.”

“atsumu. please, omi.”

“fine. thank you, atsumu.”

he smiles. “here’s ta more sights ‘till then.” they return to the flowers, quiet spectators of their dance.